Friday, September 23, 2011

Topic: You're about to tell your significant other that you're seeing someone else. The thought process before that, and the conversation if you'd like.

Hannah:

i’m guilty. i’m guilty and i am a hypocrite.

i’ve done what i’ve never thought i was capable of.

what i’ve adamnantly said i’d never do.

where’s my confidence in that now?

gone.

i’ve met someone, i’ve been creeping but..i didn’t mean to.

it was just..i didn’t..i can’t even..

i mean, it was friendly, he was friendly, and we hung out a few times.

i didn’t think anything of it until..until..well, until he kissed me.

and i kissed back.

i don’t know what came over me.

flustered and confused, i rushed out of there, went straight home.

straight home to him.

and he asked what was wrong, and i don’t remember what i told him.

everything after the kiss was just a blur.

and i should’ve told him.

it was wrong of me not to.

and i should’ve stayed away…

but i didn’t.

i went back.

i wanted to know him more.

and it’s wrong…so wrong.

but…but i swear, i didn’t mean to hurt him.

i didn’t mean to do this to him.

i didn’t mean to put him in the shoes i were in with him.

i didn’t.

and i know there’s nothing i can say.

nothing.

i hate that i’m putting him through this.

i hate that i’m causing him this hurt.

and i hate that i’m going see the heartbreak in his eyes as i tell him.

now i know how this guilt feels.

now i know.

but i wish i didn’t.

i’d rather die than feel this.

Jonathan:

Here’s one: Two old fellows sit on a park bench. The tall one says to the short one, “Y’know, I’ve have a lot of regrets in my life, but the biggest one was that I didn’t find myself a wife.”

“No kidding?” says the short guy.

“Yup, never married. Didn’t see the point,” says the tall one.

The short fellow says, “Y’know, I was married once.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, a really beautiful looking broad. She was short and blonde and really nice like. She was the sweetest thing in the world. Never gave me any lip, did what she was told. And every day I’d get home from work, she’d have a beer waiting for me.”

“That sounds great.”

“Not only that, but she’d rub my feet for me. And she was a great great cook. Everyday, I’d come home to a feast she had made just for me. Anything I wanted, anytime.”

“She sounds like a dream.”

“She was. Whenever I needed tending to, she’d just hop right on it. Like a pogo stick. Anytime, any place. She was wild.”

My best friend wanted a dog for Christmas. It was all he could talk about, for months and months. On and on about this damn dog. About proper training and how he got the custom leash and how he built the doghouse. So Christmas rolls around, his parents get him the stupid dog. Loves it for a two days and then sold the dog, the training books, the custom leash, and the doghouse for the 50 bucks just to get rid of it.

Do you see the pattern here? I don’t know what it is, I don’t really get why, but it seems that we have this pathological need to fuck things up.

I’m thinking I fucked things up. Really badly.

And I’m not really sure why. I don’t know why I do half the things I do.

She’s gonna cry and I’m going to the reason for that and decent people care about that sort of thing, so I think I’d feel bad. I’m thinking she’s gonna slap me, or throw a drink in my face (for theatrics), and then storm off. But not really storm off, slowly storm off. Enough for me to hold her arm. She wants me to grovel and beg for forgiveness. And I’ll probably do it with the drink in my face and everything, cause decent people care about that sorta thing. I’m gonna tell her that Number 2 means absolutely nothing. Which is true.

When you go for this sort of thing, one would think you would go for someone that, y’know, is slightly better than the one you’re currently with. That’s why you’re doing it cause the you’ve weighed the options, calculated the odds, and this NEW thing is better for some reason than that OLD thing. But that doesn’t apply here. Number 2 is a pain-in-the-ass jealous idiot. Unlikable, untrusting, un-EVERYTHING. And I fucked her numerous times for some reason. God.

The problem with us, is this perpetual Grass-is-Greener-I-want-things-I-don’t-have thing. This thing that makes us reach for the cookie jar even if we’re not hungry. This thing fucks everything up. So when she’s crying and making a scene, and while I’m making my best sad face and saying, “but I love you!” with my best ‘my heart is breaking’ intonation, I’m thinking, this is the most I’ll ever want her. I want to hug and kiss and have sex and hold her hand more than I’ve ever wanted to before, only cause in the back of my head I know I’ll never get to again.

the night before my birthday, sean and i looked for a new sushi spot to try for my pre-birthday dinner, one that was closer to where we lived since for sushi we've been going to pasadena (sushi roku) and san marino (yoshida's). after a few minutes perusing through yelp, we decided to try sushi gen, in little tokyo. honestly, it's the best place we've been to yet, and i wish i could start my morning off with their toro sashimi (soooo good!). (thank you, love, for this awesome experience!)

i know what it's like to be lied to, to be ignored, to be denied the existence of...i know. i know how it feels to be second best, to be the other girl, the one he cheats on another with. i know what it's like to be kept in the dark about what's really going on, what it's like to say "i love you" to someone and how your heart feels when all you get is a heavy silence on the other line. i know. all the things a girl shouldn't go through, the things a girl can do without, i know how they feel.

You know, I seem to be spiraling down deeper and deeper into confusion when it comes to my sense of identity as the days go by. Who I was before last November is now a stranger to myself, and the firm grip I had on my dreams have loosened a considerable (and also a slightly frightening) amount. I guess this is a phase that everybody goes through at one point in their lives, and I know that this just means that I have to take time to try and figure myself out and reacquaint myself to the same (yet slightly modified) ideals I once had. It’s just that right now, I can’t seem to put a finger on who I was and who I want to be.

However, I’m not wholly confused. I know the exact reason why I feel like this. Ever since I got over the childhood trauma (that remained a chip on my shoulder for fourteen plus years) in November, the person I was before then just didn’t seem to go with the new chapter of my life. I was angry, hurt, cynical, vindictive, and totally fucked in the head because of the things I went through and because of the less-than-ideal childhood/teenage years I’ve experienced, and all that just doesn’t go with the way I look at things now. I was a mess because I had no idea how to handle all that negativity in my life, and because of the fact that I just didn’t know how to let my past go. I was driven and ambitious because of the fact that I wanted to prove all the doubters wrong, because I wanted to show them that I am worthwhile, contrary to what they think. My sense of direction only existed because I wanted to prove something toother people and not to myself, when I’ve been, and am, all those things all along.

And now, after learning the most difficult lesson of forgiveness and finally ceasing to let my past define who I am and how I think, I’m kind of lost. I have no reason to be angry anymore, no reason for the cynicism I once had, and no reason to accomplish success as a means of vengeance. So…who am I now, exactly? How am I not supposed to feel confused when those three qualities have defined me for so long? And, quite frankly, all this freedom I’ve gained from moving out of my parents’ is getting to my head. I’ve forgotten what crucial steps I need to take in order to achieve what I want to achieve. I’ve gotten so comfortable with my laziness, it’s kind of sickening.

I guess I just have to look at this period of my life as a form of…rebirth. I guess this just means that I have to take time to reevaluate everything I’ve once known and modify them to fit the life I have now chosen to lead. And as a writer, I have to go out and look for new things to write about, because always writing about rape, abuse and unrequited love can get a little tiring.

As crazy as this year has been (especially towards the end), I'm thankful for everything that's happened. This Thanksgiving has got to be the most bittersweet Thanksgiving I've ever experienced in my 20 years of life.

First off, I want to thank my blood family, immediate and extended. Though there were plenty of hard times, tears, and unwanted memories, I wouldn't be who I am without the (sometimes twisted) nurturing of each and every member. I love and hate you all, no doubt about that.

Second, I want to thank my D-Fam and GP Fam. I don't need to name any names, you all know who you are. I'm very grateful for all of you. It's really been a crazy year, from start to finish, and I'm thankful for having each and every one of you here with me to see me through the tough and easy times. I can't ask for better friends, for better people to call family. I really love you all. Each and every one of you, different and like as you all are, were much needed influences (good and bad) in my life.

Third, I want to thank life. I'm still living, still breathing, still here. I'm striving. I want to thank every boss, every superior, every opportunity that came my way, for seeing potential in me and letting me work alongside your talented, very gifted, selves.

Officially, as of today, I am no longer a prisoner of my father's household. I was told to leave the house on Sunday night, went over after school to pick up my stuff and unload it at Dobbs (nickname of the place I'm staying now) last night, and I woke up in my new home this morning. Crazy shit, right? Not really.

I always knew that it was going to come down to this, that the day I leave is the day that I never talk to my dad ever again. I knew that no matter how I left, I would always be on bad terms with my dad. Not that it bothers me too much; he was never really there for me in the first place, and I always held down my own from the day that I was legally allowed to work. I think I'm just more worried for my little brother and my mom the most. Otherwise, it just felt so natural waking up in this apartment.

However, it is a sudden move, no matter how you think about it. I'm just fortunate to have planned it out with Mia (my sister from another mister, foreal though, God bless her) in advance before the bomb was officially dropped.

I was actually supposed to move in next March, once I had everything figured out financially and such, and I was dead set on living with her.

I should probably start from the reason WHY I moved out.

My dad gave me an ultimatum, telling me that I either have to live by his rules, his way, and become the person he wants me to be (which is the one type of person I don'twant to be) or leave the house. And I, being the stubborn "I'm-going-to-stick-to-my-dreams" type of person I am, chose to leave. I guess my dad didn't really process the fact that I'm as stubborn as he is and didn't think that I'd really go. He seemed really shocked that I actually packed that Sunday night and came to pick all my stuff up.

Not that I care, but I'm just immersed in the sad humor of it all.

Ultimately, it was a move that I had to make, and was going to make anyway. I'm just really glad that I have supportive and caring friends all around me to help me through this shit, to really believe in me achieving my dreams.

I'm grateful for this change. It's not easy, but I'm intent on making this shit work. This is a prelude to the big FUCK YOU I'll be sending out to all you doubters out there.

Times like these make me realize just how fortunate I am, in most aspects of life. I mean, sure, there could be a few improvements here and there...but overall I'm very content. I'm glad that things didn't go "according to plan" (which says quite a bit because of the fact that I am a big "planner"), and I'm so glad that things went awry when they did. Those little moments of negativity which we so hate are the moments that make you realize just how big the positive things are.

Just remember, having no control over your life is a very beautiful thing.

There's something in the air that's different, something that's been altered in one fell swoop. It's a bit...unexpected, yet welcomed, and it dawns a new realization within me. I have never really...let myself feel this way before. The emotional handicap I've Tumbl'd about earlier this year? That damn parking boot on the wheel of my life? It's been...somewhat removed. That fear that boiled deep within me is just a mere simmer, the flames slowly dying. Abstract? I don't mean to be, but I just can't help it. What I'm feeling right now is abstract in general, and I don't really feel the need to make sense out of it. It just...feels right.

It's 12:13 in the morning, and this is just one of the many nights I sit here in front of this contraption, awake as ever. Sleep has eluded me once again, and once again I spend this insomnia unwisely. I can be finishing up an assignment for my scriptwriting class (but it's due next Monday), catching up on my readings for my literature class (but there's no class tomorrow due to the furlough), updating a few personal projects (but I can do that whenever), or organizing my room (but it doesn't look that bad). Yes, yes, I am the Queen of Procrastination, but we all know that already, don't we? (Oh, don't you just hear my voice, drenched in the sweet, dripping sarcasm?)

Sitting here, craving a cigarette, I'm thinking back upon this year instead of doing one of the things I mentioned.

In retrospect, 2009 has been a really weird year so far; it was like an intense roller coaster that's heading towards the end of the ride. I just don't know if I should brace myself for impact or expect a nice halting stop.

First and foremost, what threw me off the most (in a public sense) were all the celebrity deaths that occurred, and are still occurring. We lost a lot of the greatests this year, and at a point they were one after the other.

Then there's all this crazy family shit that happened since the year started. I'd rather not get into that.

Then the realizations about friends and what friendship really means.

Then the self-realizations regarding my past and how it's affecting my present.

Then all the good things came rolling in (i.e. the trip to SF, the jobs, the internship, the work, the inspiration, etc) and also the equally bad to even things out.

This is also the year that I've plunged deeper into my debts, and my accounts will be (or have already been) reported as delinquent and affect my already slowly-diminishing credit.

It's almost close to a month since my last update, and things have been a nonstop craziness since then. Everything's just coming up in really weird timing and I just don't know what to do with myself; to be honest, I'm at my lowest point, and I'm not liking my current position one bit. If I were a weaker person, I'd be out on a Virginia Tech rampage, just straight shooting motherfucks. Of course, it'll be dubbed the Cal State rampage (and you thought it's always sunny in California).

So, so close. But I'm not like that. I'm too sane in my insanity to pull a massacre like that.

School especially has been driving me up the wall, and confidence in my procrastination isn't really helping my situation either. Being an English major is...no joke. I mean, I always had an idea of how hard it would be, but goddamn. My insomnia, which has been nearly overcome during the summer, has come back with a rage. Pretty soon, I'm going to look like a vampire with red-rimmed, baggy eyes with dark circles under them.

Family's...not that great. Insanity is hitting everyone as I'm typing this right now. I don't know what's worse... Shit hitting the fan, or me shrugging nonchalantly as voices and tension are rising higher in the next room. It's all fucked up.

Friends...well, human relationships in general aren't always easy. But I'm grateful for the people in my life, and this issue is the lightest of issues in my life right now, lol.

In retrospect, as much I say that I hate drama...I'm actually glad that shit hits the fan every once in a while. It makes you appreciate the good moments even more so than ever.

I guess...I don't know. I need go to out and clear my head. I'm gonna try my best to avoid cigarettes, 'cause we all know that I've been smoking one too many of those.

I had an interesting conversation with a good friend of mine about what we expect from our potential boyfriends, whoever they may be. While we were talking, I couldn't help but to realize that we each expected a lot from the opposite sex. For example, I find men who are tall (past the 5'9" mark) attractive. They don't have to look like a modern day Adonis, but a good-looking man will spark my interest (y'all can't deny your own superficiality. Then again, I have weird taste). Intelligence, confidence, spontaneity, tolerance, ambitions, independence, initiative, and humility are what I look for when it comes to personality.

But what about them? What do men expect out of us women? Is it just entirely boobs&ass and a willingness to provide the sexual at the speed of light? (C'mon guys, tell us something we don't know.)

So many of my friends celebrate their birthdays at around this time of year, and if someone wanted me to, I could probably fill everyday of the month of September with the names of my friends. There's my mom's birthday on the third, then Sharon's birthday on the fourth. John's birthday on the sixth, then Septian's birthday on the seventh...etc etc. I myself celebrate my birthday in September, and I think we should all get together and throw a big party.

As I'm drawing closer and closer to the consummation of my 20th year, I've come to realize a lot of things about myself through many conversations with friends. Things I wouldn't normally sit down and think about without some kind of topic of conversation sparking the initiative to do so.

I've realized that I am a very jaded individual, leading me to become somewhat apathetic to the things around me, all of which stems from my experiences of my childhood.

This is the first time I've publicly come out and said this, but I feel like it's something I have to do in order to cope and eventually get over it. When I was six years old, I was once molested by a strange man who came into the day care center I was in, and repeatedly molested and raped through trickery by my then-eleven year old cousin, who was staying with my grandmother at the time.

I didn't know it for what it was until I was until I was in the ninth grade. It was during health class, when a speaker from the local rape treatment center came to talk to the students. Realization hit me like a baseball bat, and I've never been able to stop thinking about it in the back of my mind. Before then, I didn't think much of it. I knew that what happened to me wasn't normal, but at the same time, I didn't really think it was something so atrocious and so...incestual.

I fell into an angry depression, feeling that I've been robbed of my own normality and innocence before I could even get a chance to experience it for myself. My dad's abuse didn't help with my situation at all, and I spiraled down into a deeper hole than the one I was previously in.

Of course, I didn't tell anyone about what happened to me. How could I? I was full of shame and just hated everything in the world. Not only that, but I was considered the failure of my family, while the same cousin who raped me was highly regarded because of all his academic achievements, despite his "sad family situation". (His dad cheated on his mom and left her for his mistress. So what? I was getting beat with baseball bats and golf clubs, fuck what he went through.)

Anyway, during my depression, all I could think of was the strange man shoving his tongue inside my mouth, and my cousin shoving his ugly male organ inside my vagine. I say it with a little humor now, but back then it drove me absolutely insane.

Finally, around the summer of my junior year, I told my mom about what happened to me, and what crushed me more was her reaction. She wouldn't express anger, and she looked out for her family instead (my cousin is from the maternal side of my family), telling me the words "Don't tell your father about this."

I was crushed. I mean, honestly, how would you feel when something as serious as this happened to you, and you tell your mom, only to hear her say "Keep your mouth shut about it."?

That brought me to a much worse state. My dad eventually found out and wanted to kill my cousin, but at the same time he told me to forgive my cousin because "he was young and he didn't know what he was doing".

Imagine how crazy I went. To this day, I'm a little insane because of all the fucked up shit that happened to me.

Anyway, I eventually pulled myself out of my depression, disgusted at how I was drowning in self-pity, and decided to move on. But what happened to me still affects my greatly. I am immediately suspicious of men, which is ironic because I mostly have male friends, and I am terrified of them. And I am terrified of sex, so I am still a virgin (though, technically I'm not).

What gets me more is the fact that there are a lot of girls who have stories similar to mine. It's disgusting how...ugh. Fucking men and their inability to reason once they're horny enough.

At the same time, this experience has shaped me into who I am. Although I'm not the ideal kind of person, I'm glad I'm not the overly naive and optimistic type. This made me stronger, and I now appreciate the ability to stay level-headed through any "crisis" that comes my way, because, honestly, I've been through the worst.

I just hate talking about what happened when I was younger, not because I think it's a burden, but because I hate the changed attitudes of people. They suddenly start to pity me and offer words of comfort and all that jazz. That's not what I want. What I want from me telling you is that you understanding my character a bit better, and understanding the reasons why I am the way I am. I don't need your sad eyes and patronizing tone of voice. That's the last thing I want.

In any case, I'm getting better, and learning to open up a little more each day. I just need to work on forgiving my cousin, not because I want to forget what happened, but because I feel that it would give me a sense of closure. But I'm not ready to do that just yet.

So, I've decided to clean out my Tumblr and just focus all my energy into this site right here because honestly, I feel like I'm juggling two bitches and that's just not my steez. I was reluctant in letting Tumblr go for the longest time because, well, it's just so image-based and makes it easier on the lurking of other Tumbl-bloggers (since it's all in your dashboard, Tumblr's equivalent to Twitter's timeline). But I can't let go of it completely since I'm still engaged in the writing exercise with Navales and he insists I post those onto Tumblr. Go figure.

Anyway, I'm moving all the little writings I've done there to here sooooo...

Sunday, September 18, 2011

I'm not very romantic, although I have to admit that every now and then I want to have a romance movie moment (but you'll never hear me saying it out loud). I can't really stand many romantic comedies, stay away from romance movies (things like The Notebook and all that jazz), and I'm not very much into the whole overly affectionate thing (unless I'm behind closed doors). I guess a nice candlelit dinner and a walk on the beach would be something I'd like to do, but eh.

Right now, I'm into the whole traveling thing. I want to spend a week away from Los Angeles and go roam about in another city (preferably San Francisco but I'm game for anywhere else). I'm against doing touristy things though. I want to make friends in a new city and live like the locals for a week--nevermind the attractions that city offers. But..that doesn't really count as a date, does it? More like a vacation..

Okay, a date. I'd love to go find a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves the best food. Then buy some wine and cheese to hang out at my favorite park (or find a new park) after hours. Then maybe find some places that are ideal for night-shooting and snap away. I mean, all this counts as a date, right? It may not be flashy but..

I mean..what do other people do on dates? Honestly, I don't really care what we do, as long as there's good conversation and laughter. Oh, and let's not forget about the good food, too.

so, friend, if i can call you that,
i want to thank you,
because without our unhealthy relationship,
i would have never figured out
that i was that badly affected
by things that happened so long ago.
and friend, i hope you are happy,
that you've found a girl who completes you,
a girl who understands what you need
and will see you through, thick and thin.
i hope life treats you well,
and maybe, well maybe we can
hang out at your front porch
and talk about art and music,
politics and society,
just like we used to
before we hoped to be
each other's lover.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Officially, Sean and I have been together for a little over six months now, but we were dating (if you could call it that) for about a year and three months prior to making our status official. That year and three months was definitely tumultuous; it was especially heartbreaking and dramatic in the last six months of that time frame... Maybe that's why it feels brand new right now. In any case, things have changed and though it was kind of rocky the first three months of official boyfriend-girlfriend status (for obvious reasons), we're going on strong now. We've been living together for a while and we've been growing together.

Friday, September 9, 2011

This isn't unfamiliar at all; I've been here before, haven't I? Except this time around I'm actually scribbling more than just a well-meditated "I'm sorry", sitting at my desk and trying to write my best explanation + apology combination that would let everyone feel a little less guilty, a little less angry. I guess there's also a part of me that wants to be understood, until the very end.

I'm not happy. To be honest, I don't think I know what it means to be happy. Deep down inside, I just don't feel it. I don't know if it's because I'm not letting myself to or because I'm just completely hopeless.

I don't want to play the blame game, not in my last hour. I don't want to sit here and cry about the things that have ultimately led me to this very point. But I have to offer up some kind of reasoning behind my motive here, and the more I try to think, the more I realize that this isn't because I was raped and molested when I was six. This isn't because I have an abusive father. This isn't because I have a just-barely-there relationship with my mother. This isn't about any of those things at all, even though those things kind of chip away at my heart and soul to this very day.

This is because I feel stuck. I'm stuck. I'm stuck between being the daughter my father wants me to be and striving towards what I want to do and what I want to be. I'm stuck between trying to be the daughter I once was to my mother before I worked so hard to appeal to my father and dismissing her as someone who, ultimately, still thinks she's twenty-five years old. I'm stuck between being a good sister to my prepubescent thirteen year old brother and holding a grudge against him for being my father's favorite kid who never had to go through as much physical and emotional abuse as I have. I'm stuck between jobs, I'm stuck in this God-awful financial predicament of mine, I'm stuck. I'm stuck inside this body and this mind that just doesn't know how to let things go.

I'm stuck. And the more I analyze everything, the more I realize I'm suffocating with my own life. With the things I leave in the back burner. With the people I meet that only fade away, with the friends I can't even manage to keep up with.

Blame it on my religionless existence. I have no use for faith in superior beings or of a son who resurrected after three days, or a messiah to patiently wait for. They're all theories. Maybe, maybe ultimately that's the reason why I feel like living is pointless because we all die anyway. Maybe that's the reason why I find no joy.

But even if I did believe, and I did have faith...if my heart's not in it, if my very being is asphyxiating, what then?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

We all have our vices and truth be told, I'll be damned if I said I haven't had my fair share of partying like an animal. I've been drinking since I was fourteen. It's not something to be proud of, I know, and I'm not particularly fond of my delinquent past. To be honest, how I managed to graduate high school, or even live for that matter, evades me. I was almost always drunk during school hours, my alcoholic binge starting as early as 7:30 in the morning (oh, that orange juice and tequila combination was my breakfast for a good while, along with many other concoctions as well), and I went through photography class with many trips to the darkroom to chug my vodka-strawberry lemonade. Strangely enough, I've never smoked reefer or dabbled with any other substance other than alcohol. I say it's strange because there was a boom in crystal meth abuse in my high school years and most of my friends were sniffing the ice in textbooks during class. I don't know, their glazed looks always kind of scared me then.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

i recently downloaded the blogger application on my phone and this is the first time i'm using it. usually i'm kind of ocd about the way my blogposts look so i'm curious to see what it looks like if posted from this droid-contraption of mine.

anyway, a picture of olivia to start the day! i'm over at my nannying job right now and we're watching tangled =) i've grown to love this little girl. as you can see, she's always on the move, haha.

so, in a bout of bad writer's block i asked on twitter and facebook (via status update and tweet), to suggest some writing topics for me.

i got some good ones and i'll be posting them here when i'm done. in the mean time, here's a list of what they are:

Thursday, September 1, 2011

I can't believe it's already September--this year's been going by quick. Last night I started a little writing exercise & had people give me topics to write about. I'll be posting them up here soon--I'd start tonight but I'll be over at Grand Star Jazz Club in Chinatown to catch the music video release party of Balance and the Traveling Sounds, a band I wrote about a short while ago on Light Meets Night. Yes, I'll be covering the event for the site, along with LMN editor Sothan, and we'll both be equipped with cameras to document. I'm excited to meet the band members and even more stoked to see them live. Yes, they're really that good. Impressed me quite a bit with their Daft Punk cover.

And yes, I've been striking up a relationship with my old lover insomnia again. She's been settling in and keeping me up with stories of how things used to be (before my boyfriend came into my life and sang me lullabies and held me to sleep), trying to convince me to get back with her. As you can kind of tell, I haven't been rejecting the idea and kind of went on a couple dates. I especially love insomnia because she's a freak and always wants to engage in a menage-à-trois with me and creativity. Gotta love the freaks.